


I'd Rather Marry A Duck-Billed Platypus

by TheseusInTheMaze



Series: Obnoxiously Freudian [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Blow Job, Choking, Crossdressing, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, High Heels, Incest, M/M, Mommy Issues, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 07:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18516943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Klaus wears Grace's clothes. DIego doesn't approve.





	I'd Rather Marry A Duck-Billed Platypus

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic in this fandom, and it is... _this_. I hope y'all like it!

Diego knew how to tell a lot about a person from how they moved. There were the standards - that guy had a limp because of shrapnel in his leg from a tour in Afghanistan, that lady’s right bicep bulged like that because she batted left handed in her softball team, stuff like that. He was so used to reading people’s body language that he didn’t actually notice what it was that Klaus was wearing, until he looked up. 

“Is that… is that _Mom’s_ dress?” Diego hated how scandalized he sounded, like some prudish Sunday school teacher, clutching her pearls. Although the dress did explain why Klaus was taking such short steps- He was wearing a pair of high heels.

“Yep,” Klaus said, his tone was borderline _gleeful_. “She’s not wearing it, and I know she’d be okay with me -”

“You don’t _know_ ,” Diego interrupted, before Klaus could go on one of his bullshit rambling tangents that left Diego’s mind all twisted up in knots. 

“C’mon,” Klaus ran his hands across his hips, wrinkling the fabric, “it’s Mom. Does she ever say no to anything, if we ask nicely?” He did another exaggerated little twirl, and Diego’s fingernails dug into his own palm, as he resisted the urge to punch the little asshole. 

“It’s… you shouldn’t just take Mom’s stuff,” Diego said, and even he was aware of what a weak argument that was. But what else was he supposed to do? The dress hung limp - Mom always wore a petticoat underneath it to make the skirts puff out a bit. It was loose around the chest, and he wasn’t wearing an apron, which added to the oddness. The dress itself was red - a deeper red, like rubies.

He had a memory of Mom wearing it when he was about five - chopping up onions, while he slowly and ponderously read at the table, stuttering over every couple of words. The fabric of the dress was made of a smooth shiny fabric - satin, maybe? In his memories, it had caught the light, reflecting it back like the center of a flame, he’d seen her against the banal of the rest of the kitchen and his heart had caught in his throat. 

The dress didn't suit Klaus. He didn’t know what made dresses suit people but it wasn't _right_ , for Klaus to traipse around in Mom's clothes like that. 

"Take it off," Diego said, aware in the back of his mind that he was standing in the middle of that same kitchen, looking at that same dress. But Klaus' hips didn't have the same curve, Klaus' back was a bit too bony, and the dress practically drooped off of him, the neck falling over one shoulder.

"Ooo, Diego, at least buy me dinner first," Klaus said fluttering his eyelashes coquettishly - or at least, in a way that Klaus probably thought was coquettishly. Klaus did, admittedly, have the eyelashes to pull it off, but Diego wasn't... interested in him that way. 

He wasn't.

Diego made a dismissive hand gesture, rolling his eyes. "Get out of Mom's clothes," he told Klaus firmly.

Klaus looked at him sidelong, swagger-staggering over to him, hips swinging exaggeratedly. Seeing that kind of... lewdness dressed up in his mother's things made Diego clench his fists. 

"I dunno," Klaus said. "I think they suit me. We're almost the same height -"

"You're taller than Mom," Diego interrupted. "Especially with those stupid heels on."

"If I was barefoot, I'd be the same height as Mom in heels," Klaus countered, crossing his arms as he leaned against the sink. He was broader across the shoulders than she was, and the fabric stretched and strained. 

"So?" Diego licked his lips, swallowed around the lump in his throat. "It doesn't matter. You look weird." 

"You've never had opinions on my sartorial choices before, brother dear," said Klaus, and now his hands were framing his face, as if he was doing a glamour shot in an old magazine. The type of magazine that would feature someone in a dress like that with pictures of men in broad shouldered suits and big mustaches. 

"Where'd you even get a word like sartorial in the first place?" Diego countered. 

"I like to read," Klaus said, putting on a tone of wounded dignity. He was wearing red lipstick as well, was that also their mom's? It didn't look as nice on Klaus - his skin too pale making him look almost washed out in the yellow light. 

"Like fuck you do," snapped Diego. "Get out of that dress. It's fucked up. Don't you have your own dresses? If you're gonna dress like a freak, do it with your own stuff." He turned around to walk off... only to be stopped by a pair of long, gangly arms around his middle, a chin on his shoulder. 

"Help me out, Diego?" Klaus was using that sing-song, almost whiny voice that always got under Diego's skin, like nails on a chalkboard. "It's a real bitch unbuttoning this thing. I got Luther to do up the ones on the back, but with those big, meaty hands of his, they'd get ripped right off if I asked him to take it off." Klaus' breath smelled like cigarettes, and his beard was scratchy, and caught on Diego's own stubble. 

"Klaus," Diego said, in a warning tone of voice.

"Diego," Klaus countered crowding into Diego's personal space, both of his arms wrapping around Diego's middle now, pulling them close. Klaus' hands were cold, but his body seemed to radiate heat - more heat than their mother ever did. The dress had a hint of her perfume - A light floral scent settling in his head like mist. It mixed in with the scent of cigarettes. 

"Get off," Diego groused.

"Why Diego," Klaus sing-songed, his hands were now on Diego's hips, his flat skinny chest pressed up against Diego's back. "If you're so offended by me _wearing_ Mom's dress, why are you suggesting I -"

"Klaus, if you finish that sentence, I swear to God..." He trailed off not sure where he was going with that. 

"What do you swear, exactly?" He gave an exaggerated little thrust of his hips and then he wriggled them. The fabric of the dress - of their _Mom's_ dress - rustled, and energy surged up his arm. He wanted to punch Klaus in the face, he wanted to rip the dress off of Klaus, he wanted... what did he want? 

"Get out of Mom's dress," Diego growled, shaking Klaus off, stomping towards the library, away from Klaus' long limbs which he couldn’t seem to keep to himself. 

* * * 

Diego didn’t think of it - he _pointedly_ didn’t think about it - until the next evening. Diego lay in his bed, tossing a ball up at the ceiling, catching it when it came back down. He’d used knives when he was younger - there were marks on the ceiling from all of that. _It’s a miracle this house survived this long_ , he thought, throwing and catching, throwing and catching. His mind wandered, although it kept wandering towards Klaus, which was _not_ where he wanted it to wander to. Especially since he still got mad, when he thought about Klaus in their mother’s dress. 

Why did Klaus like wearing dresses so much? Some of it was obvious “being the center of attention” thing. Klaus liked attention, liked all eyes on him. Diego never understood that - he liked to melt into the shadows, unnoticed, unseen. He never understood Klaus in general - wouldn’t it be _nice_ , to talk to the dead? 

The ball made a reassuring thunk-thunk sound, bouncing off of the ceiling, landing back in his hand. And then there was a knock on the door, and he smelled the familiar floral scent of his mother, heard the click-click of her high heels. He sat up on his elbows, smiling in spite of himself, and yelled “come in!”, looking over as the light from the hallway spilled into his bedroom. 

Only to be confronted by… Klaus. 

Klaus, in Grace’s white high heels, a mint green dress (light greens did _not_ suit him - he looked even more sickly), red lipstick… he’d even done something to his hair and was wearing her perfume

“Diego, darling,” Klaus trilled, and it was a proper _trill_ \- Diego could almost admire it, in the bits of his brain that weren’t fuming. “Mommy was just wondering -”

“Klaus, you are going to step back, I’m going to let you walk out of this room, and you’re gonna get out of those clothes,” Diego said. His voice was very calm. He was even impressed with himself, how calm his voice was. 

“Don’t you recognize Mommy, Diego? You want to see me _naked_? Aren’t you a naughty - urgh!” 

Diego had grabbed the front of the dress, and yanked Klaus forward. The feeling of the fabric bunching under his fingers gave him an intense sensory memory - _six years old, crying into Mommy’s shoulder over Reginald’s harshness, clutching the fancy fabric of her dress in his fist, smelling her floral perfume, her arms warm and comforting_ \- He should have let go of the dress, should have backed away. Instead, he shoved Klaus into the door, snarling into his face. 

“Get the fuck out of Mom’s clothes,” he said, his arm coming across Klaus’s throat, pinning him to the door. “You sick fuck, how can you even think about wearing _Mom’s_ clothing like this?”

This close, Diego could smell the cigarettes on Klaus’s breath, count the bristles of Klaus's mustache. Their mother’s perfume wafted around them, and the dress fluttered around them. Diego was aware, in a distant way, that he was crushing something… poofy with his thighs. 

… Was Klaus wearing a _petticoat_ , or whatever it was that Mom put under her dress to make it puff out?

“It's just clothing, Diego,” Klaus said and he gave a little shimmy, forcing his hips against Diego’s. “Unless this is turning you on…?”

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!” Diego's arm dug into Klaus' throat, and Klaus made a wheezing, gasping noise. “You are wearing our mother’s clothing, coming on to your _brother_!” He applied more pressure causing Klaus' face to start turning red. 

“Just clothes,” Klaus gasped out. “Calm… tits.”

“You're being disrespectful,” Diego stated. 

Klaus made a rough, desperate noise, still thrashing against Diego. His eyes rolled back in his head, and then Diego registered the fact that Klaus wasn't thrashing, he was _humping_ \- there was no mistaking that shimmy and roll of his hips.

Diego made a disgusted noise taking his arm off of Klaus' throat. He tried not to think of how hard he was in his own pants - some weird wires must be crossing in his head - he was remembering choking a lover years ago and remembering sitting in his mother's lap while she read him a story, and he didn't know which one was giving him the boner. 

It was _distressing_ to say the least, only made worse because the leather didn't leave much to the imagination (and he didn't want to think about the inside of Klaus' imagination) and the way the two of them were pressed together meant that Klaus could feel it, even through the layers of fabric. 

“Diego,” Klaus said, His voice was rough - rougher than the cigarettes, but _fuck_ Diego… what did he want. He wanted something so much he could taste it, under the smell of cigarettes. 

Diego didn't know what he wanted, but he was kissing Klaus. Klaus was clinging to his shoulders Diego’s fingers in his hair, and Klaus’ mouth tasted like lipstick and cigarettes, but their mother's perfume was mixed into it and it was all washing over him and filling him so much that he couldn't breathe. He pulled his face back from Klaus' and saw that Klaus was smirking at him, all smeared lipstick and deep, sunken eyes. The shadows danced across his face, and he looked nothing like Grace. 

There was a gasping, panting sound coming from somewhere - Diego was surprised to notice it was himself. How about that? He should have been… what? What should he have been doing? He shouldn't have been leaning forward again, his mouth seeking out Klaus' - he was going to be all smeared in lipstick. Grace's lipstick was always impeccable - somehow she never left stains on the faces of her many children. 

“Tell Mommy what's wrong,” Klaus said into Diego's mouth and suddenly Diego was clutching at the sides of the dress wrinkling the fabric. He whined in the back of his throat, as Klaus' fingers wound through his hair, and he leaned into him, their chests pressing together, his nose moving to Klaus' neck. 

More of Grace's perfume, mixed with cigarette smoke and Klaus. He slid his hands along the top of the bodice of dress and remembered being small enough to sit in their mother's lap and cry into her shoulder. Maybe the shoulder of this very dress. He was shaking as he got to his knees, and surprisingly even Klaus seemed nonplussed.

“Diego?” Klaus’ hands were shaking, but they were still combing through Diego’s hair, twisting it. 

Diego had never looked up at Klaus - not emotionally or physically - He opened his mouth to… what? Make a joke? Tell Klaus it was all some weird bullshit? But he just kept his mouth open, staring up at Klaus and Klaus’ thumb slid into his mouth. 

Klaus’ fingers tasted like cigarettes and the salt from his skin. Diego sucked on it. He didn’t think, just sucked on Klaus’ thumb, and his expression changed to something that Diego didn’t understand, except that it went well with the red lipstick and the mint green dress. Diego’s cock was throbbing in his pants, and he shouldn’t have been shaking this hard, he shouldn’t have been… he…

“Give Mommy a kiss,” Klaus said, and his voice still rough. He pressed his thumb deeper into Diego’s mouth and Diego just kept sucking. 

He should have made a joke, or punched Klaus in the face, or… something. This was _Klaus_. Fucking Klaus Hargreeves. The family joke. So why was Diego shaking like this? He didn’t resist when Klaus pushed him forward, his face in those same skirts that he’d pressed his face into when he cried, that he’d held on to when he was small enough to only come up to Grace’s hip. He pressed his face into Klaus’ thigh through the dress, his thigh was skinnier than Grace’s and his hips were much bonier under Diego’s hand than Grace’s had ever been. 

That helped, somewhat, but it also made it worse.

It wasn’t the first time Diego had been on his knees in front of someone else - not even the first time he’d been on his knees with a boner in front of someone in a skirt. But not… this skirt. The last time he’d been on his knees in front of _this_ skirt, he couldn’t even get boners. And… well. 

Well.

“Aren’t you a good boy,” said Klaus, and god, it was obvious that in no way was this the first time that Klaus had said that to someone in this position. Not this kind of position with him, obviously, because… fuck, had he ever been in this kind of situation?

“Don’t push your luck,” Diego said around Klaus’ thumb. 

Klaus pressed down on Diego’s tongue,his index finger curled around Diego’s chin. “I’m sorry, the guy slobbering all over my fingers is being judgemental?” 

“This isn’t exactly normal,” said Diego, his voice garbled. “I’m just pointing that out.”

Klaus snorted one eyebrow raised. “I mean,” he said. 

“You mean?” Diego’s hands left Klaus’ skirt to slowly move up to the tops of Klaus’ feet - feet, covered in stockings. White stockings. Unbidden, Diego’s hands trailed up Klaus’ legs feeling where Klaus’ leg hair was poking through the thin silk of the stockings. “Are you wearing Mom’s stockings?”

‘Yep,” Klaus said. “Everything I’m wearing is Mom’s.” 

Diego paused. “What, even her underwear?” His head was spinning and a wave of heat washed over him, making him dizzy..

“Would you believe me if I said no?” Klaus’ hands went to the hem of the skirt - of _Grace’s_ skirt - drawing the skirt up, and Diego wasn’t looking away. Why wasn’t he looking away? Why was he even going along with all of this in the first place?

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_ flashed through Diego’s head, as he looked at his brother’s cock in his mother’s underwear. His mother who wasn’t his real mother, but his cock didn’t seem to care about any of that because it was throbbing and his mouth was already watering. When was the last time he’d sucked a cock, anyway? Since before Eudora, definitely. 

“Be a good boy for Mommy,” said Klaus as his hand went to the back of Diego’s head. He was pulling Diego’s head towards his cock, the other hand still holding up the skirt, 

Fuck, this was… this was wrong. Diego knew it was wrong even as he nuzzled forward, Diego’s cock was going to have a permanent zipper impression from how hard he was, and Klaus’ cock was wet and hot, leaking through the light blue lace. Even though it was in a modest style it was not made for someone with a cock, they bulged and a sudden movement caused the wet sticky spot to rub against his cheek.

“Yeah,” Klaus mumbled and shuddered his legs spreading wider, his back relaxing against the door. “Yeah, good… fuck, yeah.”

Diego mouthed along Klaus’ cock, opening his mouth enough to suck on the head causing Klaus was dropping the skirt’s of the dress over his head. He was suddenly surrounded by the scent of their mother’s perfume, the rustle of her skirts all around him. He hooked his fingers under the waistband of the panties, and Klaus’ cock sprang forward, slapping against his cheek. He opened his mouth again wider this time, in the stifling darkness under his mother’s dress, and he sucked on the hot, wet velvet of his brother’s cock. 

Klaus groaned loudly - it was the same pained groan he’d given when they were kids, sparring on mats or hitting each other with practice weapons -, and he pushed his hips forward, the length of his cock jamming into Diego’s mouth.

Diego gagged, but he stayed in place, tears dripping down his face, and it almost made ironic sense - it wasn’t the first time he’d cried into this fabric, only now he had drooling running down his chin, as well. It wasn’t a particularly… skilled blow job, but Diego usually went for enthusiasm rather than skill. He didn’t have much experience but he could savor the sensation of a thick, hot cock in his mouth, even if it was his brother’s. Even if it was while surrounded by the scent of his mother and the sound of her skirts. 

Klaus was a greedy lover - he thrust his hips forward, moaning, forcing his cock down Diego’s throat, and Diego just took it, sucking, gagging, his head spinning with the sensation of the hem of the dress dragging across his shoulders, against his back. He was shivering, and he moaned around the cock in his mouth and Klaus moaned back. 

“Such a good boy for your Mommy, Diego. Such a good… _fuck_ , do that again, where’d you even fucking learn to do that?!” He shuddered, and he pulled Diego further onto his cock, and Diego was just wrapped in the green fabric, in the petticoat. The smell of Grace and the smell of Klaus, all mixing together, and Diego didn’t even know what it was that he was feeling, but he was getting overwhelmed by the amount of it. He let Klaus fuck his mouth - let Klaus fuck his _throat_ , which wasn’t something he usually allowed with anyone, but fuck, he’d let Klaus do anything right now. 

Klaus’s cock was getting thicker, beginning to throb in Diego’s mouth. More pre-come slidding across his tongue, letting it drip down his throat. He’s letting his face be fucked and some small part of his mind was crying out _Mommy_ which wasn’t a thing that you did at a time like this. Even a time like _this_. 

Was there ever a time like this?

“I’m gonna come, you’re such a good boy Diego, making Mommy come like this,” said Klaus, and then… god, he was pulling his cock out of Diego’s mouth, His come spurting across Diego’s face, getting on the skirt, no.. that wasn’t right.

“You got it on Mom’s skirt,” Diego said, and his voice was wrecked. 

“When you make Mommy come, you get come on Mommy’s skirts,” Klaus said, and he pulled the skirt up and off of Diego’s face to used the hem to wipe up Diego’s face, his face breaking into a wide, in on some joke, kind of grin. “We’re fucked up, aren’t we?”

Diego flushed, but his cock still throbbed against his zipper. “Well,” Klaus said, with more of that shit eating grin, “are you gonna be a good boy for Mommy?”

**Author's Note:**

> A million billion points to whoever gets the reference in the title!


End file.
